


Afternoons

by LovelyMelody



Series: Time of Day [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst?, F/M, sequel to mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 04:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16885713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyMelody/pseuds/LovelyMelody
Summary: Bucky Barnes gave up his mornings, but now he might have a second chance to get them and you back in the afternoon.Sequel to: Mornings





	Afternoons

If Bucky had to choose what time of day you remind him of, he’d choose the afternoon. You’re the brightest thing in his life, warm and radiant, glowing with every move you make just like the rising sun at its peak. It didn’t matter if he spent the mornings with you, you were and always have been the afternoon.

It was even an afternoon when he first met you. The memory is hazy at best, and really if he’s honest, he doesn’t actually remember. If it weren’t for the photograph his mother had hung in his childhood home’s living room for everyone to see, he wouldn’t even know what you and he looked like back then. But because of it, the image is ingrained in his mind, the memory grasping by its fingertips. It plays like an old vintage video, there’s a one-year-old Bucky smiling wildly, curious and completely enamored by the tiny baby laying in her crib as his father holds him up for him to see. His mother liked to remind him of how he would follow you, looking for excuses to play with you and even kiss your cheeks. Your parents and his used to believe that you two would one day end up together, seeing how inseparable the two of you were. God, how he wishes that were true, but it’s too late now.

There’s a knock on the door and the sound makes him freeze. He’s not ready to face anyone: not Steve or Sam, or his family. He didn’t need them congratulating him for a hasty decision. He didn’t want to feel the guilt and regret that he had tucked into the back of his head resurfacing once more. You’d already done that for him earlier, making him feel more than just those emotions.

“Bucky?” he recognizes your voice and he finds himself fidgeting with the bow tie wrapped around his neck, tugging it loose. The thing suddenly felt like it was suffocating him.

“Come in,” he says with his hoarse voice. And god, his heart is beating wildly against his ribcage as he waits for you to open the door leading to his dressing room. He wonders how you’d react to seeing him dressed up in a black and white tuxedo. You’d probably disapprove of it. He still remembers how you used to say if you were to marry someone, you didn’t want them to wear a traditional tuxedo. You wanted your significant other to wear something more casual, more beach-worthy. And you wanted to wear a beautiful white dress that moved like the waves against the current whenever the wind picked up. He used to think it was silly, but now he wishes he would’ve been able to do that for you. To do that for the two of you.

The door opens slowly and he feels anticipation hitting him like currents of electricity. His breath hitching when you enter the room, your beauty making his blood pump and his heart race. He didn’t think you could possibly look any more beautiful, but he was wrong. Fuck. “You look gorgeous.”

“I could say the same about you, Barnes. You look handsome.” Your beautiful lips lift at the corners, and he feels his heart swell at the sight. “But thank you. Steve helped me pick it out! Said it complimented my eyes.”

His heart drops, the thought of Steve seeing you in this beautiful dress first makes him feel jealous. He wanted to be the first person you showed your dresses to; wanted to be the one to give you compliments that made your cheeks flame and eyes shy away. He wants that. He wants it so bad. “Are you and Steve?”

You walk over to him as you speak, your hands reaching for the crooked bow tie, “Are Steve and I what?”

He can’t stand being so close to you and not being able to kiss you. It’d be so easy to pull you against his chest and just kiss you senseless, find out if you really taste sweet and bitter like maple syrup and tea. But he can’t because you might belong to his best friend, and he couldn’t do that to Steve. To you.

He swallows the lump forming in his throat, the question dying on the tip of his tongue.

“Bucky?” you stop fiddling with the bow tie, your right hand moving to rest on his cheek and your left moving to grip his bicep, forcing him to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

He forces himself to ask, even if he isn’t ready to hear the answer. “Together. Are you and Steve together?”

You still, your beautiful eyes widening before they begin to search his face. A smile appears and his heart does a tumble again, sending hope running through his veins. “Once upon a time,” you start, “but we realized we were better off as friends.” You make to move away from Bucky, but he stops you, needing to feel your warmth. His hand covers your smaller one resting on your cheek, keeping it in place and your smile grows. “He’s currently smitten with Peggy from 3C. If you’d talk to us more often you’d know that,” you tease him and he laughs.

He can’t help but smile, relief washing over him. He knows it’s wrong to feel this way, but a part of him feels freed and relaxed. “I’m sorry.” 

Your smile unexpectedly falls and you’re forcibly removing yourself from his hold. “I almost forgot what I came here for.” It stings, the way you suddenly build a wall around yourself, seemingly wanting to keep distance between the two of you. “It’s almost time. They’re waiting for you.”

He watches the way your eyes gloss over, your lips trembling as your fingers grasp at the skirt of your dress. The light he used to see around you dimming with every step you take back. “(Y/N),” he calls your name pleadingly, wondering why you had a sudden shift in demeanor. Worry overtakes him and soon you’re mumbling an apology and running out the door. “(Y/N)!” he yells your name, running after you, but before he can leave the room, Steve and Sam enter. Once more reminding him that his time with you was over, that he no longer had a reason to be with you. He’s made a choice and now he has to live with it.

“Buck,” Steve’s voice is gentle, reminding him of the good-natured shrimp he made friends with all those years ago. “It’s not too late.”

“He’s right,” Sam adds in, a goofy smile on the guy who spent too much time at their apartment because he felt left out.

“You guys knew?” he’s baffled.

Sam rolls his eyes, “Really, man? You two were so obvious.”

“Wait,” he feels his mouth go dry, “you mean?”

“That she likes you too?” Steve grins, proud to know something that he didn’t know. “Like Sam said, it’s pretty obvious.”

“Fuck!” Bucky can’t help voicing his frustration. He runs a shaky hand through his hair, the brown tresses moving out of their carefully combed hair. He couldn’t believe it. You had feelings for him. No, you have feelings for him. How blind could he have been? First, he messed up your mornings together, now he was missing out on a chance of his lifetime. All because he was so stupidly blind to your feelings. “What do I do?”

“Go after her, you idiot!” Sam moves away from the door and so does Steve.

“But what about–”

“We’ll handle things here,” Steve pushes him gently. “Go get her, jerk.”

Bucky’s heart swells, seeing his two friends smiling at him encouragingly, wanting him to get the girl of his dreams. “Thanks, punk.”

And he runs. He runs as fast as he can out of the venue, ignoring the surprised shouts and cries of the wedding planner and staff. He’s waited far too long for this and he wouldn’t let them stop him, not when he’s certain that he could have a future with you. Not when he knows that this whole time you’ve been waiting for him to join you for the mornings. But now it’ll be different because it’s not just mornings he’ll spend with you, but afternoons and evenings and nights and dawns–every single possible hour.

“(Y/N)!” You’re by your car, your hand hovering over the door’s handle.

You turn, surprise evident in your eyes as you watch him run up to you. “Bucky?” He’s not sure if you notice the panic in his eyes or the desire, but you meet him halfway, your steps careful and cautious. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be getting married!”

“I love you,” he blurts, watching the way your face morphs into different expressions and emotions. He finds it endearing the way your mouth opens and closes, reminding him of the pet fish you used to have when you were kids. You had named it Bucky Jr. and called it your child and his. Maybe you’ve liked him since you were kids too. Maybe you’ve always known it was him, just like he’s always known it’s you. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I ignored our mornings. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I love you so much and I was fucking stupid. I thought I meant nothing to you. I thought that if I forced myself to move on, I’d one day stop feeling like my heart was ripping out every time I saw you smile at Steve. Every time I saw you hug Sam. Every time they’d take you away from me. You’re special, you know that? So damn special to me. I just couldn’t deal with the idea that I was just a part of your day, someone you could easily replace without a thought–”

His rant is stopped by your soft touch on his cheeks, pulling him down to meet your lips in a sweet, tantalizing kiss. His eyes widen at the sensation before they close, his arm weaving around your waist to bring you closer to him while his hand cups your jaw. You taste better than he could have imagined, better than the sweet and bitter taste he thought belonged to you. You tasted like the ocean’s summer breeze, like the taste of maple syrup in the mornings during fall, like the warm sun breaking through the gray clouds of winter, like the morning dew glistening on the blooming flowers of spring. It’s all so overwhelming, yet he can’t get enough of your sweet lips.

“You’re an idiot, Bucky. A goddamn idiot,” you breathe against his lips, pressing your forehead against his as a gentle smile graces your beautiful features.

“I know, doll.” His heart is in overdrive and his palms are sweating, your body feeling soft and warm against his. He once used to think he would never get to hold you like this. That he’d never get to tell you how he felt. But he was wrong, and for once, he’s glad that he was wrong. “I know.”

“I love you.”

It was an afternoon that he first met you. An afternoon that he first confessed. And it was an afternoon that you finally became his and he became yours.


End file.
